Olives and Detergent andCat
by Tamer Lorika
Summary: Kiku is visiting Athens for a diplomatic forum, but the reporters seem a little more keen on subtext... Not to mention, Herakles' body seems to have a mind of its own ? But he must be just messing around, right?
1. Chapter 1

**Umm... Hi! This was written for the LJ Valentines Exchange (aiyaa, so long ago....). I felt like posting it here; maybe you guys will like it? It will be posted in parts; I have three altogether, but here is the first one.**

***Bows* This is rated M only just in case (sorry...) There is a lot of lead-up, but for some reason I find it hard to write descriptive sex, at least for this particular couple. Or maybe its the story? I'm not sure.**

**I hope you enjoy it! I didn't edit this well, so if you spot something, feel free to point it out!**

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It was raining when the plane touched down in Greece. Kiku had been pressed against the tiny, foggy window since the Acropolis had come into view, since the plane had dipped below the ashy clouds.

Kiku sighted, sitting back in his seat only as the plane taxied to a stop. He didn't mind the rain - not really - but he'd hoped that he and Herakles would have had time to take a stroll around the city before their press conference. Maybe, however… maybe it would be better this way. No one knew they were nations, but Herakles' people did know that he was an important diplomat, and they recognized Kiku as such, as well. Being seen together as friends in public had the possibility of being awkward.

As Kiku trailed out of the plane and into the warm interior of the airport, Kiku smiled to see a tall, lean, flop-haired man lounging against the far wall. His green eyes were hooded half-shut, his gaze focused somewhere far away - until he noticed the passengers disembarking, Kiku politely shoved in the back of the crowd. He waited for Kiku to cross to him, and they stood for a long moment, almost close enough to touch, just looking at each other.

"Kiku…" Herakles finally breathed, his voice a happy sigh. He grinned, and moved as if to embrace the Japanese man, but the nation quickly took a step back and stuck out a hand to shake. For a moment, Herakles looked confused, but he took the offered hand.

For Kiku, this warmth was enough; the feel of Herakles' warm, broad hands enveloping one of his. It was nice, this contact, this touch. He looked into Herakles' eyes again, dismayed to find a measure of disappointment buried inside. Kiku knew that his friend was more… open… with public displays of affection, but in Japan one did not just casually hug a male friend; that was reserved for private, for lovers. And they were not lovers. After all, to Herakles, those few kisses they had casually shared had mean nothing at all, Kiku thought…

"Ah… baggu ga arimasuka? Do you have bags?" Herakles stumbled in Japanese. Kiku smiled, shaking his head and holding up a large cloth bag.

"It is all in my carry-on" he replied. "If I can perhaps use an iron at your house…"

Herakles nodded, smiling back. The Greek had offered to let Japan stay at his house during the few days he was here for the press conference - an inaugural discussion on how to improve political relationships between the two nations.

They stepped out of the sliding glass doors to the outside, and Herakles popped open the bright-red umbrella that he had carried with him, moving to shelter the both of them as they made their way to his car.

"Tabi wa ogenki desu ka? Your trip was pleasant?" Herakles asked, once he started the car. Kiku smiled a little, getting the gist of what Herakles was asking, even though his phrasing was a little off.

"Hai," he replied, then switched to English, which they would be using at the conference this afternoon. "It was a fine flight. Thank you for coming to pick me up; you didn't need to do that. I could have easily taken a cab."

"I wanted to spend time with you," Herakles replied, eyes on the road, and Kiku blushed. Sometimes, he wished that Herakles knew how his flippant words effected him. Sometimes, he wished that Herakles really _meant_ them, the way that Kiku heard them.

The two made it to Herakles' house in Athens, a townhouse close to a business district, with little incident, Kiku happily pressing his nose to the steadily-fogging window and asking about each new sight they passed. Herakles humored him easily, and they passed the drive companionably. Kiku was glad to be there, with Herakles - it was as if they were in their own little world, trapped in a little blue car as the rain pounded around them.

When they entered Herakles' home, he showed his guest to the room he would be using. "There's an iron in the closet, and you are free to used the shower and such, but we must leave in… twenty minutes in order to get to the conference."

Kiku nodded in response, and set about unpacking his things - but looked up after only a moment. Herakles was standing in the doorway looking… almost agitated. The Japanese man had a single, strange thought that if Herakles had been a cat, his tail would have been twitching.

"Herakles?" he asked quietly.

Herakles looked startled to be addressed. "Eh? Umm… sorry… do you…" he stumbled, "Do you want some tea? I'm afraid I only have the bagged kind, but its green."

"Tea would be very nice, thank you," Kiku smiled softly in return. He could not help it. It was strange, but the slight blush on Herakles' cheeks, as if he were caught doing something wrong was… well, it was quite cute. He had always though Herakles to be cute. And more than that - but it would be no good dwelling on that now!

Herakles nodded and left the room, leaving Kiku to change. Kiku waited until he heard the Greek's footsteps vanish down the hall, then sat on the bed and _breathed_, inhaling the scent of olives and salt and detergent and … cat… but that was alright because that was Hera, after all. And for the first time in a very long time, Kiku relaxed, feeling safe and warm and right.

Kiku breathed, then removed the comfortable yukata that he had worn on the plane. He would have to wear a shirt and tie to the conference. He pulled on his dress slacks - they had not suffered in his luggage - then proceeded to get out the iron and treat his shirt, running the hot metal over it in soothing strokes, listening to the rain pound on the roof.

"Oh."

An embarrassed cough. "I'm sorry.. I … I mean, I didn't -"

Kiku whirled to find Herakles standing awkwardly in the open doorway - had he been so distracted that he forgot to close the door? Immediate realization of the fact that _he was wearing no shirt_ hit him with a shock, and he felt his entire body flush warm with embarrassment.

"I… am out of tea…" Herakles mumbled, obviously relaying the message he had come up here to express. But he did not move.

Beat.

Beat.

A staring match, and Kiku could not unfreeze himself to grab his shirt off the iron and cover himself. Especially as Herakles began to - slowly, as if trying not to scare a stray - walking towards him, hands outstretched in a plea to stay still and not bolt.

And finally Herakles was in front of him, and, putting large, warm palms on Kiku's shoulders, kissed his bare chest.

Propriety and tradition told Kiku to _move_. Instinct and passion told him to stay. So, with trembling fingers, Kiku pulled Herakles' chin upwards, away from his fluttering hart to his trembling lips.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, reminding Kiku of viscous lava, a burning against his skin. He was achingly aware of Herakles' palms on his shoulders, and Kiku's own hands snaking around the Greeks' neck.

Then the warmth was gone. Herakles had stepped back - but he was smiling, his lazy eyes hooded and content.

"We will be late," he said, and Kiku's blush deepened to almost unhealthy levels.

"I.. I-I -- I.." Kiku fought hard to keep his voice from trembling as badly as his legs were already. "I-I'll get ready."

Herakles nodded and left the room, closing the door properly this time. Kiku's legs gave way completely and he sank onto the bed.

What had just happened?


	2. Chapter 2

Herakles sat in the kitchen, unable to keep himself from smiling. Kiku had kissed him _back_. Maybe the man was starting to get it, after all.

Herakles always knew that he and Kiku had a tacit relationship; often, they could communicate without being able to speak, so it made sense that Herakles understood, without a doubt, that Kiku loved him, just as much as he loved Kiku.

Now to get Kiku to realize it, too.

Herakles had loved Kiku for a long time, and had often tried to express it in the only way that he knew how; through gestures, rather than clumsy words. He had first kissed Kiku on the cheek, under the cherry blossoms at his home. Kiku had blushed, but had not even met Herakles' gsze, quickly babbling about the beauty of the flowers.

He had kissed Kiku on the lips, too, the last time they parted, but again only the cute blush, the widened, frightened eyes and Kiku walked away. He never protested, but... but he always walked away. But today, when Herakles just couldn't resist and gave into instinct, Kiku had kissed _back_. That meant... that meant Kiku liked him back. It was just that simple.

He heard his guest on the stairs, so he smiled, and they both quietly moved out the door into the still-pouring rain. Herakles popped out his red umbrella again, then turned to Kiku.

"The building is only a block or two away. Do you mind if we walk?"

Kiku shook his head in agreement, and Herakles felt more excited, more.... giddy, even, than he had in a very long time. It barely showed on the outside, but inside he was ridiculously happy.

The two started down the sidewalk and, quietly, Herakles grabbed Kiku's hand. Kiku started, eyes widening, but again he didn't pull away and Herakles allowed his lazy smile to stretch slightly wider as they ambled along the street.

_Herakles-san's hand is warm..._Kiku could not think very well at the moment, but he could feel. He felt Herakles' skin, its contrast with the cool rain outside.

He was very, very nervous, heart pounding wildly, hard enough to hurt, but the Greek beside him seemed so calm, so at ease.

That is what told Kiku that the kiss had meant nothing at all: there was no contemplation in Herakles face, nor the signs of nervousness that were creeping in on Kiku. The Greek obviously did not place as much importance on his prior actions as Kiku did.

It was a ... cultural difference.

Still, the warmth _was_ there, and Kiku was not going to begrudge himself that. He leaned into Herakles' shoulder and breathed in his smell and pretended that Herakles loved him.

They quickly reached the convention center where the conference was to be held, but as soon as Herakles collapsed the umbrella and opened the doors, they were hit by a veritable wall of paparazzi, video cameras, lights - apparently, what was to be a fairly quiet, private conference had grown into a media free-for-all. Broadcasters from various stations were standing in corners, the lobby, clustered around the approaching nations. They weren't all Greek stations, either; the names emblazoned on the cameras flashed in Kiku's own native Japanese, in English, even in Korean.

Kiku felt his breath _stop_. He could... sort of... deal with media situations. He had to, being in his line of work, but he also needed a warning, time to prepare himself. This sudden press of humanity was stifling, making it hard for him to focus. All that he was aware of were shouts of questions, the glare of flashbulbs, heat, breath. He shrank against Herakles' side for some sort of ballast, an anchor in the chaos, and Herakles snaked an arm around his shoulder and held him steady as the Mediterranean nation smiled politely at the clamor, shoving their way to the conference room.

Kiku had hoped the noise would cease, would at least calm, when they reached the room, but it only intensified as even more people joined the throng. A harried-looking press secretary showed the nations to their seats at a long table and attempted to calm the crowd and begin the meeting. Most of the nuances of this were lost on Kiku, however, as he desperately tried to focus away from his growing panic.

"Kiku, are you alright?" Herakles whispered, his lips suddenly at the Japanese nation's ear. Kiku started, pushing him away automatically. _Too close, too close_.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, let's just start."

As if on cue, the questions began in a flurry.

"Mr. Karpusi," a young man with slicked-back brown hair began. "Let us begin with the question that is burning in all of our minds. What are you and your country doing to improve relations with the country of Japan?"

Herakles was as serene as ever, even in the face of the flashbulbs and claustrophobic situation, and Kiku absolutely envied him.

"Well... spending more time in his house - I mean, sending more diplomats to spend time in his - the - country... seems beneficial, don't you think?"

Alright, maybe he wasn't so composed.

Kiku kicked at him under the table. "What're you saying?" he mouthed, decorum almost lost in anxiety. "House? They do not know what we are!" _And if they knew_ he added silently, _"spending time in my house" would make it seem like we were together_.

"Sorry," Herakles whispered back with a shrug and an apologetic half-smile. "I'm not very good at this."

The questions came fast and thick, but Kiku let Herakles field most of them. The sounds and lights left him muddled and lost.

"Mr. Honda?"

Kiku looked up, startled to be directly addressed. A young woman with a microphone bearing the name of an American TV station (but wasn't "Star" tabloid news?) was standing, said microphone outstretched.

"Mr. Honda, perhaps close political ties between your countries stem from close _personal_ ties between diplomats."

What now?

Kiku blinked a moment, trying to understand where she was going with this. Herakles, noticing his discomfort, squeezed Kiku's knee under the table but Kiku flushed and smacked it away.

"What I mean, Mr. Honda, is that you and Mr. Karpusi seem very close. You did, after all, walk here under the same umbrella, and in Japan does that not signal intimacy?"

Kiku was absolutely still but for the blush rising in his cheeks. His back was ramrod straight and his legs were stiff.

"Na...nani...?"

"And he led you into the conference room in an awfully protective fashion," the girl continued, obviously out for the sensational story. By now, even the press secretary was looking flustered.

"Ma'am, these questions are inappropriate for a political conference such as - " the man began.

" - and you two just seem to have a very familiar connection. One may even call it _romantic, " _she pressed, a very Hungary-like gleam in her eye. It was then the security detail showed up, showing an upset and _loudly_ protesting American news crew out the door. A pause filled the room as the other newscasters watched the debacle, recording furiously.

"I assure you, it is nothing like that!"

Kiku was suddenly on his feet, palms flat on the table in front of him.

"Hera- Mr. Karpusi and I have a purely professional relationship!"

A moment of dead, bleeding silence

"...I think that this conference is over... " the secretary murmured.

There was a long pause, then the reporters began herding out, prompted by the presence of the security detail. Japan stood standing, shaking and red in absolute mortification. He waited until it was only him and Herakles in the room, then finally he sank back into the chair and buried his face in his hands.

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**A/N My Greek friend told me the other day that "karpusi" means "watermelon". She now giggles whenever she reads Herakles' name. Am I the only one who did not know this?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh, quick note - I'm using Japanese honorifics in this chapter to signal Kiku's sudden feeling of awkwardness. I know I had not used them before, but in my head-canon Herakles has been trying to break him of the habit for years, and it is only in times of duress that he forgets himself and uses them. But in his head, he calls him "Hera" - the Japanese really have a thing for nicknames. **

**Please enjoy *bows***

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The walk back to Herakles' house was very very quiet.

It had stopped raining.

Herakles shuffled next to Kiku, kicking at puddles and muddying his shoes. Kiku was trying not to cry. Never had he been so embarrassed.

But the silence between the two was different than the comfortable companionship that they had been used to and Kiku felt it with a _slam_ as they walked into Herakles' kitchen.

Hera looked… sad…

"Herakles…?" asked Kiku, heart constricting. He had been so focused on his own discomfort, but now he was free and his head would clear and he was worried. Was he being selfish? Herakles must be even more embarrassed at the blunt allegations - in his own country! It would be a problem for Herakles, he was sure, if people thought he was in a relationship with Kiku. Kiku could not afford to be so focused on his own emotions that he neglected the situation that Herakles must be in.

"Um… Herakles-san, I deeply apologize for you having to hear such a blunt - "

"No, it is me who should apologize. I guess that I got it wrong."

"Excuse me?"

Herakles smiled up at Kiku, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I always thought we understood each other well enough without speaking… but maybe…"

"Herakles-san, what are you saying?"

"Ah, I'm sorry… this is what always seems to happen when I try to clarify myself."

Kiku waited, shock-frozen, for Herakles to take pity on him and explain. What was happening, what was happening…?

The Greek seemed to shrink away, backing towards the kitchen doorway. "I just meant.. I'm sorry for being so forward, but I was under the impression that you were in love with me, as I was with you. Forgive me." He attempted his dull, wincing smile again.

"…love…?"

"I love you. Aishiteru."

Not "daisuki da yo" - the openly ambiguous Japanese statement of affection. But "ai". Love. Real, undeniable love but -

"-but obviously I was wrong about you, Kiku-san, so perhaps I should leave -"

"_NoHeraWAIT!"_

Kiku stood in the middle of the empty kitchen and _yelled_, his words crashing together in a tide more confused than the tangles of his own emotions but if Herakles walked away from him now Kiku knew, illogically and desperately and he knew that he'd never see the man again.

"HeraklespleasecomebackpleaseIDOLOVEYOU-"

Herakles turned around again, even his half-smile gone. He looked tired. He looked like he was barely holding it together. Herakles hand never seemed so fragile.

"Don't say that, Kiku."

"But I -"

"Don't. Its okay. I didn't mean to put you in the spot and you don't need to feel guilty."

"I don't feel guilty!"

"Kiku…"

Herakles looked at him with such _kindness_ in his eyes , such blistering care and selflessness that Kiku could not stand it, he was overwhelmed with shame and guilt for causing the hopelessness that lingered in his eyes.

"Kiku, please stop talking. Words only seem to make things worse."

"Then I won't _use_ words."

Kiku was past the point of caring about anything other than getting Herakles to understand. He reached up, grabbed Herakles' collar, and yanked him down until they were face to face. He stared into the other's surprised eyes and dared him to resist.

And then Kiku kissed him, as hard as he possibly could.

Herakles' eyes widened but Kiku didn't see, as his own lids were screwed tightly shut, fingers fisted in Herakles' shirt, lips pressed firmly together.

After a long, long pause… Herakles kissed back.

Immediately, Kiku let go of Herakles' shirt and wrapped his arms around his neck and leaned into his chest and he felt as Herakles smiled into the kiss, wrapping his own arms around Kiku's slim hips and pulling the two together so that hey were flush against each other, no space between, kissing in the kitchen.

They broke for a moment, breathing heavily but neither daring to bring up those deceptive, painful words again. It was understood. It was as it should be.

Herakles gave in first, leaning into kiss Kiku again, bringing his fingers up to rest on the Asian's face - middle finger gently against the corner of his eyes, thumb brushing below his lip. It made Kiku shiver and he hesitantly brought his own hands up to tangle in Herakles' hair, movements eager but still somehow unsure.

Kiku felt warm wetness against his lips. Herakles was running his tongue along the bottom one and Kiku let out a surprised breath, opening his mouth lightly and Herakles nudged his tongue inside. The Greek pushed his free hand into Kiku's hips, guiding him backwards until he was pressed against the counter. But there he stopped, not forcing the kiss any more, as if waiting for Kiku to adjust, to give him permission. Kiku was acutely aware of the fiery points of pressure where their bodies touched, and he found himself increasingly impatient.

He wasn't very experienced in kissing - strike that, he had _no experience_, beyond the occasional groping from Yong Soo - but he had read enough BL manga to know, vaguely, what to do next.

Reaching out soft hands, he began to unbutton Herakles' dress shirt, slipping fingers inside to run up and down the cut plains of Hera's chest, mapping valleys and mountain ranges. Herakles broke the kiss with a hiss of pleasure and seemed to melt a little. He cocked an eyebrow with an expression equal parts amusement and arousal.

Kiku blushed slightly and focused on the land under his fingertips. "I've…always wanted to touch you like this," he admitted in a near-whisper, still not trusting what came out of his mouth.

Herakles' sated smile never looked so sexy as he lifted Kiku so that he man was sitting on the kitchen counter, then undoing his shirt so that he could kiss his chest like he had that morning. And it didn't stop there - Herakles' warm lips moved down in a lazy arc, across Kiku's chest and down his stomach. Kiku leaned back on his hands, closing his eyes and biting his lip.

Herakles looked up.

"You don't have to be quiet," he said, placing soft fingers against Kiku's lips, then letting them wander further down. Kiku shivered and stiffened a little as the fingers reached the hem of his pants.

"H-Hera-?" he panted.

Herakles paused, staring at Kiku's clouded face.

"Kiku," he breathed. "Don't be scared. Trust me, okay?"

"I'm not scared," he said as he fought for breath at the slow-burn touch against his skin. "I just… have never… "

"I promise, I will take care of you."

Kiku never imagined it would be like this - his first time, pressed against Herakles' Formica countertop. Post-storm sunlight, impurities scrubbed away by the clouds, flickered into the room through the wide, veiled window above them. It passed like an old silent movie, flashes of scenes embedding themselves into consciousness - cold and nakedness, utter vulnerability, lessened as the other revealed himself as well; pain and gasps of breath that were made bearable by a constant murmur of lilting Greek against his Adam's apple; swirls of heat wafting like steam and being full and needy and held so tightly he could never, never slip away.

It passed comfortably like warm honey, golden and unbearably sweet.

Slowly - for they had always, always done thing slowly - two became one.


End file.
